![]() To make matters exponentially worse, Jonathan’s batting average for booking commercials was astonishingly good. On the contrary, each of my brother’s successes only deepened my sense of resentment and cosmic wrongdoing. Is your mother there?” “Yes, Dolores, she is, but is this audition for me?” “No sweetie, not this time, it’s for your brother.” Though this scenario repeated itself week after week, month after month, I never got used to it or grew to accept my also-ran status. For God’s sake, didn’t they know my life depended on this!īeing an indoor child, it was always I who answered the phone, eagerly hoping to hear the scraping sound of Dolores Reed’s voice, which to me sounded pleasant - filled with the hope of a better life and a ticket out of East Brunswick, New Jersey. Matters were not helped by the fact that Jonathan continued to book commercials regularly throughout the first year of our relationship with Dolores while I failed to get a single audition! Not one! I simply could not understand the dearth of opportunities for someone with my level of enthusiasm and passion. When it came to on-camera ambition, my fraternal love gave way to something much less appealing: pathological competitiveness. Now of course I loved my brother, but I felt certain I could love him much more if he were on a baseball field and I was on a film set. Given the disparity of interest in our new venture, I was understandably distraught when, shortly after we signed with Dolores, Jonathan booked a commercial for Stouffers Crumbcake - the very first time he was sent out. Having the drive and professionalism of a young Joan Crawford, I was prepared and ready to go work at once, but first I’d have to wait. ![]() I, on the other hand, had no extra curricular activities and prioritized an audition over everything else including homework, for this was my life’s ambition, my dream. My youngest brother, Robert, was too young to have an opinion. In fact he regarded each audition and its attendant requirement to travel thirty-five miles to and from Manhattan as a totally annoying distraction from his sports related extra curricular activities. This would be the time to note that my brother Jonathan was completely ambivalent about being an actor. Is your mother there? I gotta call for your brother,” went the script. Jonathan, 1973 - his look and personality was, in a word, “money” Even then, I suppose I exhibited resilience and flexibility if you’re childhood isn’t working out, just move on! So began my professional career on TV, but not without first having to overcome some major hurdles. I was ecstatic because at the age of nine, I had already been planning to become a famous actor for what seemed like an eternity and this new development fit nicely into my master plan: to become an adult prematurely by going to work, thus summarily ending a childhood pockmarked by my parents’ acrimonious divorce and relentless bullying at school. She sounded exactly like what you would expect a New York City talent manager to sound like.ĭolores’ specialty was TV commercials and she felt quite confident she could get us work. And what a voice it was: all rasp, outer borough accent, and Runyon-esque street smarts. It was the only time I ever met Dolores Reed and for the next fifteen years, like Charlie on Charlie’s Angels, Dolores Reed was never seen, only heard, existing only as a disembodied voice. The man had seen a picture of the three of us on my father’s desk and, owing to the commercial viability of red-headed kids at the time, mentioned us to Dolores and a meeting was quickly was arranged. It all began in 1973 when, by a stroke of luck, my father came home from work one day and said that he’d met a guy whose girlfriend, Dolores Reed, was a talent manager. Our first commercial headshots were taken by my mother’s friend Elsa Brenner, 1973 As a kid the number one question I was asked was “how’d you get on TV?”
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